The Wake

I woke up from this sleep and

hearing voices with laughter

headed downstairs.

Opening the door to a crowded room

No one turned.

I walked among these people

recognising many faces.

Peter, Sally, ‘hey, Thomas how are you’

But no one took any notice of me.

I moved around the room as in a dream

nudging past people who couldn’t feel me

I came across two old chums I’d dealt with for years

in business. They were chatting...

The silly old sod, never knew I diddle him out of fifty grand

on that shopping centre project.

Charles dear boy, that’s nothing remember that pipeline under the Thames,

I made millions from that while poor old Robert lost a fortune.

I was stood next to these so called friends of mine

and listening to every word what was being said

I let fly with a fist to Charles Miller.

There I was on the darn floor, I’d gone straight through him

what the hell was going on here?

I tried picking up a glass of wine but my hand just went through the glass

now this is frightening, am I in sane or just bloody dead!

Shouting over to Julie my dear wife, she didn’t hear me, never turned, she was talking to Jake Stephens he’d always fancied her the swine. I moved slowly to the far side of the room, there I could just make out a casket surrounded by flowers.

Dare I look inside this thing, who, what will be in there?

I approached slowly more or less walking through the people mingling around now -

Two more steps I’m there, I look inside the casket a face is staring back at me…

My face stepping back in shock I realise now that this is a wake, yes this is actually My wake for my death. And these so called friends are at my funeral...SCREAM!!!

Written by B R Walker

Copywriter UK 2017